


Old Flames Die Hard

by matchboxpassion



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Nightmares, [jack nicholson voice] iiiiiiit's chara!, mental illness stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-03
Updated: 2016-02-05
Packaged: 2018-05-04 17:27:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 15,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5342387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/matchboxpassion/pseuds/matchboxpassion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i> Undyne sniffed. "It's been three years. They're never coming back. We have to accept that." </i>
</p>
<p>An uninvited dinner guest seems to be the solution to the heartache of Frisk's absence - Papyrus couldn't be happier if it was really them. Only Sans seems to remember what a murderous old sinner they are.</p>
<p>As he works to uncover the truth about Chara, he begins to realise that the past is rarely as it seems.</p>
<p>Post-Pacifist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It was fine.

It was fine.

It had been three years since the barrier had been shattered and they'd first moved to the surface.

Once they found the run-down inn on the side of Mount Ebott, they found they didn't particularly want to hang with humans anyway.

They spent a year making it somewhere you might one day refer to as 'home'. The final set-up looked suspiciously like Snowdin.

It was fine. Everything was mostly the same.

Minus Frisk.

They stayed for a little while — Papyrus helped them make their room look just like their old one.

But Frisk didn't call it home.

They missed after-dinner hot chocolate (Papyrus could never make it the way Frisk's mom did), the smell of fresh laundry, their dad's bedtime stories…

Papyrus missed Frisk most.

Sans missed the burning warmth of whisky. Old Fashioned. The way Grillby did it.

He started locking his bedroom door again.

They all met up for dinner occasionally, when Alphys wasn't busy with, "oh, y-you know, Mettaton—uh—upgrades… (his fans sure are c-creative… heh…)", and when Undyne could spare a moment from her "absolutely ultimate-ultra-mega-super-secret training".

But it was mostly on principle. No matter what they ate (some form of pasta, usually), Sans could never keep it down for long.

He thought about finding Frisk, but…

No. They knew where crummy Pseudo-Snowdin was. If they missed him, they would come back.

They didn't.

It had been three years since the barrier was broken. Sans had all the bars in the surface world to drink himself numb at, but he still chose Grillby's.

He pretended he didn't see the others down there from time to time, too.

It was fine.


	2. Not-Grillby's

"Whiskey. Old fashioned."

"You got it, Sans."

Burgerpants slid the glass to him and Sans knocked it back. It burned, but not in the comfortable, numbing way. It just hurt.

_Not like Grillby's at all._

"I'm getter better, right, Sans?"

The skeleton looked up. Burgerpants was wringing a cloth, his eyes wide and hopeful.

"Sure y'are."

Burgerpants sighed.

"Thanks, Sans."

Bouncing on his feet a little, the weedy burger-flipper-gone-barman returned to polishing shot glasses. Sans heaved a sigh and rested his face in his bony hands.

It was dinner with everyone tonight. He couldn't stand how excited Papyrus was. Or being sober.

It was the same every time: _Spaghetti Bolognese à la The Great Papyrus._ They would all come over — Alphys would be fifteen minutes early, Undyne fifteen minutes late, and whether or not Mettaton showed depended on how his ratings were. Asgore turned up precisely two minutes after Toriel. Together they would spend a while talking about the weather, a little more marvelling in how great it was to have weather, and then they would busy themselves with the spaghetti until someone, God, _anyone_ said something. All of them willing Papyrus not to talk about Frisk. Willing themselves not to burst out about missing the Underground in a desperate need to know if anyone else missed it too.

Undyne would leave first. Then Alphys. Mettaton probably wouldn't have shown. Toriel would stay to be polite. Asgore would begin to fidget. Then they would leave.

They always did.

So there he was, sitting in bar drinking poorly made whisky, trying to reach the elusive state between _"not drunk enough for anybody to notice when I go home"_ and _"drunk enough to not feel"._ He reached it easy enough at Grillby's every other night.

But he couldn't sneak down to Grillby's tonight because it was a Thursday, and Undyne always went there on a Thursday - they were in the midst of an unspoken game of "I won't tell if you don't". So Sans settled for Psuedo-Grillby's with its too-clean bar and too-fresh air and drinks made by a twenty-two year old who had clearly never had an Old Fashioned whisky in his life. Sans turned to gaze at the TV set crackling in the corner.

_"…next live guest: he's our favourite larger-than-artificial-life robot! You all know him! The incredible, beautiful, outstanding—"_

Sans scoffed. "Guess he's not coming to dinner."

"What's that now?" Burgerpants jumped up and smacked his head on the bottle shelf, sending shot glasses shattering to the floor. Red faced and cursing, the cat ducked down again to clean up the mess. Sans downed the last of his whisky and, thrusting his hands deep into his pockets, sauntered to the door. He'd had enough of this horrifically un-bar-like bar for one night.

But it was fine. It had to be fine.

Dinner was in five minutes.


	3. Dinner

"ISN'T THIS WEATHER JUST  _MARVELLOUS?"_  Papyrus slammed his fork down, making everyone jump.

No one had spoken in a painfully long time. Alphys looked dizzy with relief. "I know, r-right? I never thought snow would be so fluffy…"

"I still can't believe there's so much…  _diversity_ , you know?" Beside her, Undyne nodded a little too enthusiastically. "There's like, three different types of clouds at least. At _least_."

"We're very fortunate to experience it," Toriel agreed.

Silence gripped the table again. Sans twirled his spaghetti, wishing he'd drunk more.

"It sure is a pity Mettaton couldn't make it," Asgore offered. A chorus of sympathetic ' _Mmm'_ s went around the table. "How's he going, Alphys?" The once-king went on. "I haven't seen him around lately."

"Oh, h-he's okay." Alphys mumbled to the table. "He's having a lot of fun. He loves them—he loves humans."

The air around the table seemed to stiffen. Sans glanced at his brother - he was staring at his spaghetti.

_Oh, Papyrus. Don't say it. Please don't say it._

"I miss Frisk."

Alphys' fork clattered to the floor. Sans scratched at a chip in the table.

"W-we all do, Papyrus." Toriel said gently.

Undyne sniffed. "It's been three years. They're never coming back. We have to accept that."

"That doesn't mean we can't still miss them," Alphys murmured.

"Well, there's no  _point_ to that, is there?" Undyne ground out the words.

Sans rubbed under his eye sockets. "Leave it."

"Friends!" Papyrus announced before Undyne could shoot back a reply, "Friends, I am sorry. I did not mean to cause a ruckus between us. We should not cry over spilled spaghetti, after all!"

No one laughed. Papyrus cleared his throat before he went on. "But I meant as I said. I… I miss our old friend. It feels as though this table will never be filled without their presence."

Undyne stared pointedly the other way and Sans dug the tip of his finger deeper into the chip. Papyrus was never the same once the kid left - and it was a lot harder to move on with life with him moping about all day, especially when Sans knew the reason why. He felt a pang of guilt.

_I'll talk to him after dinner_ , he resolved suddenly.  _I won't drink. We'll talk it all out, just like we used to._

"Sans?"

The skeleton snapped back to the dining room. Alphys was fidgeting beside Undyne, who was glaring across the table at him.

"What, so you're ignoring me now? Real mature."

"I was just—"

"Oh, you were just  _what?_  You weren't listening, bonehead! Look, you can't stand us, we get it. Just cut the act."

"Undyne, that's enough." Toriel scolded, cutting off Sans' incoherent spluttering.

"S-Sans."

Sans looked up at his brother's soft voice. Their eyes met.

_Damn it to hell._

"Look, Undyne…" Sans began, "It's just—"

But everyone's wide, worried eyes were on him, and he faltered. Instead, he addressed his uneaten bowl of spaghetti. "It's… it's just… me and Pap—it's been hard for us. It's been hard for  _me_ , okay? And I know you guys don't  _get_  that, but—," The harsh scrape of a chair against the floor made Sans jerk his head up to see Undyne towered over him, icy fire in her one good eye.

"How.  _Fucking._ Dare you."

He felt his smile stiffen. He'd really messed that up.

"Undyne—,"

"No! How  _dare_  you stand there and act like you're the victim in all this!"

_Knock knock._

Alphys tugged at Undyne's sleeve. "Um, Undyne…"

She jerked her arm away, her piercing gaze never leaving Sans'. "This is so typical. You're so selfish!"

_Knock knock knock._

But Sans barely heard it.

"How do you think  _we_ feel, you lazy sack of shit? You—sitting at home and drinking—you've done  _nothing! You're nothing!"_

_Knock knock knock knock._

"G-g-guys? There's someone out...outside," Alphys squeaked in alarm.

Asgore practically leapt out of his seat. "I'll get it."

Sans slumped back into his chair, thinking that he'd rather the tense, painfully awkward dinners over this absolute mess any day.

_God, I can really fuck things up._

Suddenly, Toriel cried out, "Oh, my good goodness."

Sans looked up. His breath caught in his throat.

"Frisk?" Papyrus' gasp seemed so far away.

_No._

_Not Frisk._

The dining room seemed to spin. The world was crashing and breaking and going all wrong.

_Chara._


	4. Overture

Papyrus felt lightheaded from excitement. "Frisk!? I simply–I cannot believe it's you! But you look so much older! I'm so glad you—"

But it didn't look like Frisk could hear him. Everyone was yelling over the top of one another, and Toriel seemed to be sobbing. The child — no, a child no longer! The  _adult_ human seemed as utterly confused as everyone else. But why? Shouldn't they be excited, too? They had so much to share! It seemed like  _forever_  since they left… Oh, he'd missed them so! He could barely contain it—he must hug them!

But Toriel got to the doorway first, attempting to scoop up the human who was almost as big as her now. The human squeaked in Toriel's tight embrace.

"Oh! My child! I'm sorry," Toriel released the human and took their face in her hands to brush away a stray brown lock. "You've grown up so much…"

"I can't believe it," Alphys sniffed heavily. "Why didn't you come back sooner?"

"We've missed you," Asgore smiled.

The human blinked. "You really remember me?"

"R-remember you?" Toriel's voice cracked and she burst into tears again.

"Like we'd forget!" Undyne laughed. "It's only been three years, dopey."

"Three—three y-years?" The human stammered.

Papyrus snorted. "They still have the same bizarre sense of humour, I see! Now, let's form a hugging line behind me—it's more efficient that way." He skipped over, arms outstretched…

And Sans, who had been clutching the table as thought it was the only stable thing in the world, instantly snapped out of his stupor.

"Papyrus, step back." His voice was icily commanding.

Papyrus paused. "There's no need to be rude, brother," he chuckled, rather embarrassed. "We all want a hug, but like I said, a line is an efficient—" But before Papyrus could finish, he was thrown backwards by an unseen force, sending him crashing into the back wall.

"Wh—Sans! That was completely unnecessary!"

But his brother strode straight past him, making a beeline for the human.

"You couldn't just leave, could you?" His voice was trembling, but it had the same cold fury. The human shrank back, stumbling backwards over the threshold. "You  _had_  to come back, you cruel, bloodsucking, murderous—,"

" _Sans!"_ Undyne barely caught his arm in time before it met the human's face. "What's gotten into you?!"

Sans stood motionless, panting as he glared down at the human who just three years ago he spent all day playing in the snow, laughing and making puns with. It didn't make any sense!

"This isn't Frisk," he snapped. When no one spoke up, he went on shakily, "This is the first child.  _This_ ," he stabbed a skeletal finger towards the human's shrunken frame, "is the  _thing_ that took everything,  _everything_ we had and—and turned it all to dust.  _This—"_

"Woah, woah," Undyne interrupted. "The first child? That's impossible. You've been drinking, Sans."

"It's… it's all going to happen again," He muttered, apparently to himself. Then he turned to the rest of them again, his eyes wild and determined. "Get out of here. I'll obliterate it."

"Wha—' _obliterate_ '?" The human stood tall. "This is ridiculous! You—I…" but the human's confidence was short-lived. "I need to sit down. I'm… confused."

Despite Sans' protests, Toriel and the others ushered the human to the dining table.

"So… you're not Frisk?" asked Undyne.

"No. I have no idea who that is. I'm Chara."

"Chara?" Papyrus frowned. "You look just like Frisk—our old friend."

"Did Frisk fall down Mount Ebott too?"

The monsters exchanged hesitant glances.

"Tell us what you know about us, and we'll go from there," Toriel said.

The human took a deep breath. "Well... a while ago I started having dreams. A-a long time ago, I mean. I couldn't get them out of my head. I know how this'll sound, but... I knew they were real. I couldn't..." they gave Sans a nervous glance, "I couldn't die without knowing for sure."

Undyne shifted uncomfortably. "That's nice, but… I'm not sure we remember you."

The human looked crestfallen. "Oh."

"Well, m-maybe if we had something to trigger the memories?" Toriel suggested. "For instance, is there anything… particularly eventful that occurred that we might remember?"

Sans snorted. "How about a murderous rampage?"

"I  _think_  I'd remember mass murder," the human muttered.

"And I think  _we'd_  remember being murdered." Undyne put in. Beside her, Alphys turned her snort into a muffled cough.

"This isn't a joke," Sans seethed.

"No," Papyrus agreed. "This is a serious situation indeed. I have not yet offered our guest anything to eat! My apologies, dear Chara," he bowed deeply, "Would you care for some infamously delicious  _Spaghetti Bolognese à la The Great Papyrus?!"_

Chara grinned. "I'd kill for some."


	5. For The Damaged

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> poor, sweet, sleepless sans.......

Sans couldn't sleep.

Rather, he was painfully aware that Chara was sleeping on his couch, so no, Sans  _wouldn't_ sleep.

Papyrus insisted on their staying. He, like everyone else, was fascinated by them and their memories of the underground.

They were a good liar: they painted an attractive rose-glass story in which they were taken by Toriel and Asgore after falling into Mt Ebott — that much was actually true. But instead of fear, they then spread  _love and friendship and hope_ , growing up beside the king and queen's son, until, quite suddenly, it all disappeared like mist in the sun, and they couldn't remember anything else.

At least, that was the end of  _their_  story.

For Sans, it was  _slightly_ different. Yeah, there was a kid; they were about as unassuming and naive as the next — not unlike Sans at the time — but it didn't last. Eventually the pretty picture of a happy (if rather unconventional) family wore thin and something went wrong. Toriel started keeping the human kid inside. Word on the street was that they were sick — but not with any human disease. It was something unnatural…

Anyway, they died, and Asriel wound up dead after trying to lay them to rest in the human world. The king and queen were grief-stricken and their world dipped into a deep depression.

Eventually, the kid came back. Or maybe they were never dead. Sans didn't know the details of how. But they… weren't the same, to say the least. They had a hunger in their eyes.

Toriel was first.

Asgore might have been able to warn them if he and Toriel were still together.

They all realised too late. Papyrus was just so damn happy to see the kid again.

Sans wasn't there when it happened. He just saw the dusty snow, the worn red cape…

He should've done more. He knew something was off about the kid but he chalked it up to paranoia. His brother cried out for him in all his dreams, but Sans was always knee-deep in sludgy snow that sucked him deeper every time he tried to pull himself out. He screamed and sobbed and begged but was forced to watch helplessly night after night as everyone he ever loved choked and spluttered and begged and bled out until they became still… and Chara would look down at him and laugh.

He couldn't even kill them himself in the end. Again and again Sans exhausted himself trying to obliterate them, trying to bore them, trying to frighten them…

They were so goddamn determined. With each time they came back, Sans became more sensitive to the subtle bending in time — the feeling of being pulled and stretched impossibly fast and starting to lose consciousness, barely holding on… Forcing himself to hold on out of spite, if not anything else.

But they were so. God. Damn. Determined. Finally, long after losing count of how many battles there'd been, there was a flash of deep maroon and then nothing. Death was a great, black heaviness that spread like poison and then made everything shrink away so fast Sans didn't have time to think of anything except Papyrus.

How much time passed between dying and being somehow reborn, he couldn't say, but he was violently pulled from some deep, sticky sleep, and was aware of his existence again. He woke up on his bare mattress. The sound of banging of pots and pans and smell of burning things — it was so wonderfully familiar — meant Papyrus was cooking. And just like that, Sans was alive again — but more importantly, so was Papyrus.

_Maybe it was just a bad dream…_

But after that there were more humans; more souls harvested for Asgore. More bends in time and space that no one else seemed to notice. At times he would be blissfully aware for a few days after a "reset" until the the wave of realisation would hit him so hard he'd feel dizzy.

He started writing a journal for good measure; he kept it in his jacket pocket to prevent it disappearing from existence whenever there was a bend in time, so when he woke up in a confused mess of old sheets on his mattress feeling like he was stuck in a déjà vu, he'd know he wasn't crazy.

The other humans came and went, but the nightmares stayed — not even Frisk could fix that.

And now he got to catch the live show! Every time he looked at Chara the ground swayed beneath him and he couldn't hear anything until he looked away. It was like God had condensed the worst parts of his psyche into a single being and then sent them to his doorstep. No, sent them to his  _couch_ to  _sleep._

_Sleep. The filthy murderer's asleep._

It was the first clear thought he'd had all evening.

He tiptoed down the hallway, hands deep in his pockets to stop them rattling. He peered down the stairway leading into the living room to make out the lumpy-blanket form that must be Chara, and watched the slow rise and fall of their chest for a few moments. They were easier to look at when they were unconscious, he admitted to himself. It'd be even easier to see the back of their head as they ran in fear far, far away from anyone they could hurt…

"Sans?"

The skeleton jolted. His eyes darted around—but it was Papyrus leaning against his bedroom door. Just Papyrus. Who else would it be?

"Brother. What are you doing up?"

"I heard you muttering to yourself," he grumbled. "Sans, what on earth are you doing?"

Sans' hands were engulfed in fizzling blue fire. He shook them out, inwardly cursing himself.

"You scared the life outta me, that's all. You get it, Pap? Scared the life outta me?"

"Go to sleep, Sans," Papyrus grumbled and disappeared into the shadows of his bedroom again. Sans stared after him.

_I'll never let them hurt you again._

Now alone, he turned back to watch Chara for a moment longer. He couldn't shake the feeling that they weren't really asleep.

_You'll never get the chance. You'll never be alone with him again._

Even as he turned to creep back to his room, Sans swore he felt a gaze trained determinedly on the back of his skull.


	6. Slow Burn

“Isn’t this weather just marvellous, Sans?”

“It’s not bad.”

“It’s fantastic! The snow is so fresh, and...” Papyrus bent to pat the snowy ground, “... _so_ fluffy!”

“It sure is,”

Papyrus continued on their stroll with a little skip in his stride. “I can hardly believe we used to think that sloshy stuff underground was  _real snow."_

“You’re right there, Pap,”

“Sans?”

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out,”

The taller skeleton halted, hands on hipbones. “You seem awfully distracted.”

Sans stopped, too, but he was eyeing Chara, who walked a little further away alongside some pretty though likely frozen flower bushes. “I’m not distracted,” he finally said.

Papyrus clicked his tongue. “It’s been days and you've barely made an effort to get to know Chara, Sans. They’re our  _guest,_ you know.”

Sans narrowed his eyes. “I don’t need to.”

“And how do you know that, hm? The rest of us think they’re _neato!_ If you just took the time to get to know—”

“Papyrus!” Sans cut him off, “It’s really not necessary. I—I just know we wouldn’t get along, alright?  _Please,”_ he pressed as Papyrus opened his mouth to object, “Please just leave it.”

Papyrus’ shoulders sagged. Admittedly, Sans seemed to be horribly on edge since Chara had arrived. With the human guest’s help, Papyrus had managed to recall fragmented memories with a young Chara — why he had forgotten them to begin with, he didn’t know. But he was so glad to have a human friend again! And how wonderful it was to suddenly remember memories with them! It was like finding an old photo album. The others all enjoyed Chara’s company, too, and no one had any quarrels… except Sans. Though he finally seemed to have found his sense of politeness around them — at least, he looked like he was listening very intently to all of the stories they shared, so why he still seemed so tense, Papyrus couldn’t say.

 “Alright, Sans," he said, making a point of sounding wistful, "But… brother…”

Sans groaned. “Don’t ‘brother’ me, Pap.”

“Will you just try? For me?”

His brother looked at him for a long moment before heaving a rather dramatic sigh and trudging off in Chara’s direction. “Fine. You see? I’ll go make friends,” he grumbled.

Papyrus gave a little jump and bounced off to build a snowman.

* * *

Sans glanced over his shoulder to make sure Papyrus was good and busy.

“So,” he said, kicking at a clump of snow at his feet, “What’s your problem?”

Chara started, dropping a small bundle of icy snowdrop flowers. “Wh—what?” 

“You heard me. What’s your problem?”

They stared at him, and he tried hard not to look away, clenching his fists harder in his pockets.

“Could you be a little more specific?”

Any cynical humour Sans clung to went cold. “Okay, drop the confused forest creature act and tell me what the  _fuck_ you’re doing here.” 

“Wh—”

“I’ll die a thousand more deaths before I let you hurt any of them again, you get that? So this’ll be a whole lot easier when you tell me exactly what your angle is. There’s no point pretending, right?” He laughed, no longer caring how loud his hand bones were rattling, “Or do you get off to this? You wanna see how far you can push me this time? Killing me once wasn’t enough, huh?”

“Jesus, Sans!” Chara snapped. “If this is some fucked up prank, it’s not funny.” 

The two eyed each other and Sans held his breath until, at last, Chara sighed, “I… I don’t know what’s gotten into you. We used to be such good friends.”

“If you wanna call  _murdering me_ friendship material,” Sans sneered. 

Chara tensed. “Would you stop saying that? It—it’s starting to creep me out.”

Sans stared at them, confused. It might have been a while since he saw them last, but he knew it was unlike them to keep the pathetic innocent act up for this long. 

From somewhere behind him, Papyrus called out, “Sans, Chara! I, The Great and Creative Papyrus, have created a new friend! I must introduce you both at once!”

Chara glanced over Sans’ shoulder. “Be right there!” They called back. “Look, ma—maybe we can start over,” they said. “I miss being friends with you, Sans.”

He desperately wanted to laugh but an invisible rope seemed to choke the air out of him. Chara gave him a final, shy smile and plodded off in Papyrus’ direction.

Feeling like all his strength had been sapped, Sans dropped onto a rock. Further away, his brother was gesticulating excitedly between Chara and a lopsided snowman. He drew a shaky hand over his skull, feeling feverish despite the snow. 

He was _not_ going crazy. Surely this was just some new, fucked up game to them.

He willed himself to calm down, craving whisky more than ever... God, it'd been days since he'd had a drink; he hadn't wanted to leave Papyrus.

Well, if he couldn’t leave his brother with Chara to sneak off for a drink, he’d just take Chara with him.

_You wanna be friends? Okay. Let’s be friends._

 


	7. Inter Malum

Sans picked some snowdrops for good measure. He presented them to Chara with a bad ice pun and a friendly demeanour and when he told them he’d love to go on a walk with them to make up for his previous rudeness, they agreed, and Papyrus gushed over the whole affair.

Now the two of them walked side-by-side in the late afternoon slosh, Chara telling some story and Sans nodding and laughing along at the right moments, though his grin was tight and his mind was elsewhere. If he could feign complete naivety tonight, perhaps Chara wouldn’t be able to resist coming out of their foul, demonic, murderous shell, and he could end this nightmare a whole lot quicker.

That was the plan, anyway.

He realised Chara had wound up their story with a laugh and Sans joined in.

“So how’s about we continue reminiscing back in the underground?” he asked.

“Back…?” Chara’s eyes went wide. “I thought you couldn’t go back.”

“No, we can, we just don’t… usually. Not everyone is as ready to reminisce as us.”

“Oh!” they gave a little jump, “Could we go to Snowdin? I’d die for one of Grillby’s burgers. He's still around, right?”

“'Course,” Sans grinned. “Hey, come this way, I know a shortcut.”

Normally — well, if it was Frisk, he’d warp them there, but he’d elected not to mess with time and space above ground. 

So he took Chara to a secluded clearing that dipped steeply where, at its centre, hidden by dense bushes, was the entrance to a tunnel that led into Snowdin - he'd caught Alphys snooping around there a while back. She'd claimed to be needing to pick things up from her lab. In any case, it was a one-way ticket to Grillby's, so Sans wasn't suspicious.

As the two hurried through the pitch-black tunnel, Sans' mind wandered to whiskey... And a huge burger, extra ketchup, of course…

At long last they found their way out and were pushing into the grimy old bar, and Sans relished in the sensation of hitting a wall of familiar, musty air. He shrugged off his jacket, feeling genuinely chipper, and waltzed up to the bar. 

It wasn’t the same as it used to be, of course; the regulars were no longer very regular and they mostly came out of grief or longing or sadness. They didn’t greet Sans anymore, that was for sure. Everyone mostly avoided looking at anyone else — they barely looked up from their drinks or huddled conversations long enough to notice a human had just walked in. But the jukebox cranked out muffled tunes and Grillby, good Grillby, was the same as ever.

“Evening, Grillbz,” Sans greeted merrily — Grillby nodded back. Chara, bouncing on their heels beside him, smiled at the barman.

“Whiskey and burg for me — you know how I like it,” Sans rapped his knuckles on the bar as he spoke, “And for—” he turned to Chara, but they were gone. Panic flared in him for a split second, but he saw them settled into a booth and huffed in frustration. Grillby was looking at him — Sans could always tell. 

“They’re our new _guest,_ ” he explained in a low, tight voice. It must have been enough for the barman to understand, for he nodded sympathetically. Sans rubbed his eye sockets. “A burg for them, too. And, uh…” he glanced back at them. They were examining a dirty, half-torn menu. “I’ll get back to you on their drink. But I’ll probably need more than one.”

Grillby nodded and went to work on the burgers.

* * *

Settling into the booth where Chara sat, Sans wondered whether this plan was a good idea. Yeah, he got to drink without worrying about Papyrus, and hopefully he’d get Chara to come clear and he could obliterate them without a second guilty thought.

But some small and diligent voice spoke up in his mind, reminding him of some almost-forgotten promise… 

He shook his head to clear it.

“I’ve forgotten what Grillby’s burgers taste like,” Chara mused, then leaned towards him to ask, “Does he still overdo the ketchup?”

Sans forced back a scowl. He was saved a response by Grillby himself, who sidled up to the booth and slid three drinks on the table: two whiskey and one—straight vodka? He gave Grillby a sly wink. He could have sworn the barman winked back before turning away. To Sans’ surprise, Chara downed the vodka. He shrugged and took a long sip of his own drink. It burned comfortably.

He sat back in the booth with a sigh and let his eyes fall closed. Oh, the familiarity in the springy, foamy and downright uncomfortable seat was more than he could ask for right now. 

Alright, so he’d let his guard down a little. But Chara had restrained from any attempted murder for days; they wouldn’t choose now to break the streak. Just to make sure, he peeked open an eye socket. In fact, they seemed as unwilling as Sans was to break the silence: they leaned heavily on one hand and gazed around the bar, apparently lost in thought. Sans relaxed again.

It didn’t last.  After a while, Chara sighed “It’s not how it used to be, is it?”

Sans had to fight the bitterness out of his voice as he replied, “No, it’s not.”

“I suppose it was bound to change when the barrier broke.”

“Yup.”

“Though… I’d have thought everything would be deserted. I-I didn’t think anyone would want to stay down here.”

“Well, like I said, this is still home to some people.”

Silence.

“So Frisk was a real hero, huh?” 

Well, there was no point pretending to relax now that he was so obviously tense. He sat up and finished his drink.

“Yeah. Yeah, they were.”

“Toriel told me about them.”

Grillby returned and slid two hefty serves of ‘burg n’ fries’ onto the table. He produced a bottle of ketchup from his apron and slid it onto the table with the burgers before sauntering away again.

Sans didn’t even consider doing a ketchup bit. He squeezed a considerable amount (probably a little more than he’d have preferred, but he wanted to make a point) onto his burger. They ate in silence and he was glad to have a reason not to speak. Chara seemed to be taking in every detail of what surrounded them; not maliciously — at least, not on the outside — but as though they were quietly calculating something. It unnerved Sans.

“What’s on ya mind, kid?”

“Hey, I’m no more a kid than you are,” they smirked.

Sans took a rather hard bite of his burger, wishing he could have hired a babysitter and gone to Grillby's alone. “Alright. What's on your mind, _grown-up?"_

Chara shrugged and licked a stray drop of ketchup from their wrist.

“I suppose I’m just thinking about how weird this all is. That, after all this time, I can come back here. It… it all seemed so far away and unattainable… the friendships I’d made, the people I met… You know, despite being a human kid surrounded by monsters, I felt like…” they smiled down at their plate, “I felt like I finally fit in. It felt like I’d found where I was meant to be, you know?” They looked up at Sans, and the excitement in their face fell. Their gaze dropped. “I know how silly it sounds. I was just a kid, after all.”

Sans took a sip of his second whiskey. “It doesn’t sound silly,” he said. “I feel that way too.” 

“You fit in here because you’re _actually_ a monster,” they pointed out, and instantly stammered, “Um, th-that was rude. Sorry.”

Sans laughed. “It’s fine. It’s true. Maybe we’re all part monster, Chara. Don’t you think?”

They looked relieved. “Yeah. I do.”

_ Now we're getting somewhere. _

He took another sip and went on. “So, what happened when you woke up?”

Chara stared at him. “Huh?”

“When, y’know, you got out of the underground.”

“Oh,” they began to push a fry around a small puddle of ketchup, and said in a monotone, “It was weird—like waking up after a really long sleep. I couldn’t remember what’d happened, and I’d been gone for a while, so my parents assumed I’d been kidnapped. After a while everything mostly went back to normal.”

I thought struck Sans. 

“Why’d you go up Mount Ebott in the first place?”

Their fry-pushing hand froze. “It’s kind of a long story,” they said.

Sans’ interest perked. Were they hesitant because they hadn’t yet thought up a lie, or because they remembered some uncomfortable memory from when they were truly human? 

“We have time,” he pressed.

They looked at him. “‘It’s a long story’ is usually code for ‘you’re not gonna hear about it’.”

“Well, you’ll have to forgive me since ‘human’ isn’t my first language.”

Chara pushed the ketchup-soaked fry roughly into their plate. “Okay, how do I say, ‘I don’t want to talk about it’ in _monster language,_ then? _”_

"Right. Sorry,” Sans blurted. Instantly he wanted to slap himself.  He’d pressed them for something they didn’t want to share and _felt bad_ about it. God, they’d gotten into his head already. He downed the rest of his whiskey.

Chara sighed and signalled to Grillby at the bar. “Could we get some more drinks, please?”

 

* * *

 

Some time and several more drinks later, Sans was confused. It was nothing to do with the alcohol, he told himself. He just couldn’t figure this Chara out. 

He sat in the booth and listened to the confessions that tumbled from their mouth. Their face was flushed from alcohol.

He'd started to pity them. 

They were upset that no one had remembered them. They wanted to fit in again, but they said it felt impossible. They wished they could start over.

Sans could relate.

_They are a murderer,_ he told himself.

But he couldn’t work out a motive for coming back.

He allowed himself, for just a moment, to toy with the idea that they were innocent. They were the product of some... some muddled-up timeline, but they didn't know it. They had memories of the underground because... because they really had been there as a child! And they didn't remember murdering everyone because...

No. It was too convenient.

Okay, so they were guilty. But why come back? Why now?

He couldn't work that one out either.

It was like playing ping pong with himself. He stared into his drink and swirled it around.

It was maddening.

“Just tell me something,” Sans demanded at last, slamming down his glass. He knew they had been talking and he'd cut them off, but he was too goddamn frustrated to care. He just wanted to _ask them_. 

Some very small and logical voice told him _S_ _top for the love of God,_ but he couldn’t find the energy to listen to it. He steadied himself, looked Chara in the eyes, and asked, “Are you going to murder all my friends?”

To his distant surprise, they laughed. And laughed. Tears were streaming down their cheeks when they finally answered, “No, I’m not going to—to murder all your friends. Why would I do that?”

Sans threw his arms up. “I don’t _know!”_

“Then... why ask?”

“Ugh… I just—I just thought…” he rubbed his eye sockets and sighed. “I guess I thought you were someone else.” He slumped forward onto the table in defeat.

“Well... who?”

“I dunno,” he mumbled into his wrist bones, “Someone who really wants to hurt people.”

If they asked something else, he didn’t hear it. “I wish I could go back.”

“Back where?” 

It took a moment for Sans to realise someone had spoken. He sat up and focussed on Chara’s face. “Not _where_. Back to—not knowing…”

He suddenly wanted to throw his whiskey glass as far and hard as he could and watch it crash and shatter. “Back before _saving_ …”

“Saving who?”

No, that’s not what he meant, but he found he couldn’t speak and buried his face in his hands instead. He was dizzy, impossibly dizzy… He slumped onto the table again.

After a long time or perhaps no time at all, someone was rubbing his shoulder and saying something. 

_Home._ That’s all he registered. He made himself nod; he wanted to go home. 

Someone was pulling him up and he groaned in protest. He felt much too heavy to be moved anywhere. 

“C’mon. Let’s go home.”

_Home. Home. Home._ The word bounced around in his head. He wanted to go home very badly. Not to pseudo-home with its shitty, real snow, where everyone was tense and thought he was pathetic and drunk and cold… Home underground with Papyrus and Frisk and Grillby and snowball fights and the comfortable, constant knowing they were isolated in their own quiet little piece of the world…

Then, that tiny voice from deep, deep inside him spoke up and warned him that he ought to be afraid, that having no idea what was happening wasn’t a good thing in the arms of someone dangerous…

But Sans found no energy to fight whatever he was leaning on, and he was lulled into a dream by the voice that kept telling him he would be home soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello.... sorry this chapter is... kinda shitty... mental illness stuff has been getting in the way. u know how it is. anyway, I hope it wasn't too Bad.  
> happy holidays!


	8. Collision

Many days went by, and Sans was finding it harder to worry.

Chara was settling in, and he was vaguely unnerved by how little he minded. They got on with the others like fire and a forest, it turned out. He also discovered they had a pretty good sense of humour.

But Sans' acceptance was still unsettling. After all, it wasn't long ago he wanted nothing more than to watch them die - not out of pleasure, but to make sure they were erased into nothing but a gruesome memory. It was also odd that none of them particularly wanted to find out more about Chara, or to understand exactly how this almost-forgotten human had materialised into their lives…

Something was off.

But the thought always winked away before Sans could think about it too much, and he ended up a little dazed. He would shrug and decide it didn't matter. Besides, he liked them. He especially liked what they did for Papyrus' cooking.

The tension in the group was fizzling out.

Soon enough, there was a group dinner, and for once Sans was comforted by the disconcerting clattering of pots and cutlery that came from the kitchen.

He set the table as Papyrus drained the spaghetti and Chara added a "final" pinch of salt to the bolognese (they had been adding "final" pinches of this and that for some time). Undyne had said that Mettaton would be making an appearance and Sans allowed himself to be carefully excited.

* * *

Chara tasted the bolognese for a fifth time. It was good, they decided for the fifth time.

"Papyrus," they said, holding out a spoonful of the sauce, "Could you taste this for me again?"

Papyrus looked at them over his shoulder. "You worry too much. It is perfect!"

"You've said that about every bolognese we've made together," Chara said, still stubbornly holding out the spoon.

"Because it has been true every time. Here," he stuck the tip of his pinky finger bone into the sauce and licked it off. "Ahh! It gets more and more delicious every time! When is everyone coming?" he called out to Sans, shaking Chara's shoulders. "I cannot wait!"

Chara laughed, comforted by the skeleton's excitement. But when Chara turned back to the sauce, they couldn't help examining it skeptically.

_You've probably made a mistake._

"No one's here yet, Pap. It's still a little early," Sans called back from the living room.

Chara started. "It's early? Really?" _What if the pasta gets cold?_

A knock at the door startled them even more. Papyrus sped out the kitchen, exclaiming, "That'll be Toriel!"

Chara gave the sauce another good stir and called out a greeting to the voices in the living room.

They tasted another spoonful.

More salt? No. A sprinkle of sugar? No...

_There has to be something._

They shook themself. Why were they getting so worked up?

_It'll all go wrong. It'll be your fault._

They contemplated the pot of bolognese. Another knock sounded at the door.

No. It would be fine.

Chara poured the sauce into one of their good bowls with the spaghetti to serve.

* * *

The night was slow and drowsy and whole - nothing felt missing to Papyrus.

He'd noticed how bright everyone was, especially Sans. He was laughing a lot with Toriel. And he was eating - Papyrus noticed that too.

Everyone was glad to see Mettaton, of course. His show was a phenomenal success, all across the globe; it was a miracle he was able to get a night off from "being a full-time superstar" at all.

"And it's all thanks to dear Alphie here!" He'd declared, planting a kiss on Alphys' cheek.

"R-really," the scientist had assured him, "Th-there are plenty of other engineers now that you're so—"

"You're still my favourite, darling."

Alphys' face reddened, though she grinned.

"This is without a doubt the best spaghetti I've ever tasted," the glamorous robot went on. "Did you make it, Papyrus? I have to say I was a little… cautious, but I've been pleasantly surprised."

"Chara helped a lot," Papyrus beamed. "They've helped me become a _Pasta Master!"_

"Well, Chara, Papyrus, it's delicious," Mettaton smiled warmly.

"You don't _have_ to eat it, you know," Chara said, fidgeting. "I know you don't _need_ to eat."

"Darling, when there's good food, I can and I will," he responded simply.

"You may have some cooking class competition, Undyne," Toriel laughed.

Undyne stuffed a forkful of spaghetti in her mouth. "We don't know what you're talking about, right, Pap?" she mock-glared at Papyrus across the table.

"Undyne says we're not allowed to speak of it," he informed the rest of the table, who all laughed.

"Yeah, the whole ordeal was a bit of a missed steak, huh, Undyne?" Sans joked.

Everyone clutched their sides with laugher. Even Undyne couldn't hide a smirk.

"Yes, yes," Toriel snorted, elbowing Sans, "Her cooking class business is toast now!"

Asgore roared with laugher, slamming his fist onto the table and almost snapping it in two.

Everyone was there, together, laughing. It was more than Papyrus ever could have asked for.

It was good. He kept thinking that: _This is good. This is really good. This is how it should be._

* * *

Chara snorted with laughter and hid their face, hoping no one had noticed. But Toriel was looking straight at them and snorting herself, making them both laugh even harder.

Chara wiped a tear away and gazed around the table of — rather blurry guests.

"Oh, damn," they cursed, wiping away fresh tears.

Papyrus was instantly at their side.

"Chara, what's wrong? Are you okay?"

Undyne caught their eye and passed over a napkin. "Is something wrong?"

The laughter died down and everyone's eyes were suddenly on them. "No, no, nothing is wrong," they assured, wiping their eyes with the napkin. "I'm just... happy to be here."

When the monsters continued to look blank, they went on. "I'm happy. These are happy tears."

Mettaton clicked his tongue. "Oh, yes, humans do that all the time at my shows. It's adorable."

But Chara didn't hear.

_You look foolish and weak._

They stood and touched a hand to the table to steady themself. They excused themself and escaped into the kitchen.

_They looked at you as though you were still a child._

They pushed the thought away and crossed to the sink to splash their face with cold water.

"Hey,"

Chara jumped, but it was just Sans. They still hadn't gotten used to his habit of seemingly appearing out of thin air. They dried their face with a tea towel and gave him a smile.

"Hey."

"You don't have to feel awkward, you know."

"Yeah, I know. It's fine," they said, examining the countertop.

"Alright. If you say so."

Chara forced themself to look at him. "Yeah."

He held their gaze for a moment, as though he was about to say something else, but apparently thought better of it and gave them a quick nod before turning back to the living room . Chara exhaled a breath they didn't know they were holding.

They weren't doing anything wrong, being here. So why did they feel so guilty?

An answer rose in their mind and they forced it down at once. They tossed the tea towel aside and took a deep breath before following Sans back to the dinner table, an apology already forming on their tongue.

* * *

"I apologise on behalf of Asgore," Toriel scowled as she pulled on her coat. "He gets rude when he's stressed."

"Why did he have to leave?" Papyrus asked.

"Something to do with the core," Undyne answered as she shrugged off her own jacket and slipped it over Alphys' shoulders. "A malfunction or something."

"Undyne, I'll be fine," Alphys protested. Undyne leaned down to kiss the scientist's cheek.

"Well, I want to practise running in the snow, and you get cold a lot easier than me."

Alphys giggled for a moment before her smile fell and she became serious. "Did you say a malfunction at the core?"

"Yeah, that's why Asgore left. I overheard his call."

Alphys gasped. "He should have told me! I have to get down there!"

"It didn't sound urgent," Undyne assured her. "He was just going down to make sure."

Alphys was frowning, but she nodded.

Toriel stooped over to kiss Chara's forehead. "It was lovely to see you again."

"And thank you for a wonderful dinner," Mettaton added, kissing Chara and Papyrus' hands in turn.

"Wait—" Chara said, suddenly dreading the sound of the house when they were the only one awake. "Do... do you have to go now? M-maybe we could watch something, or…" they trailed off, hating to sound desperate. They had felt strange all day—tense like a wind-up toy waiting to spring. They had wanted to be alone so badly and now feared it. "Drinks!" they declared, before anyone could say anything. "Let's get drinks. At the bar. We can walk."

"Sure," Undyne said, and Chara was glad to see she looked unfazed. "I could do that. Alphys?"

Everyone agreed, to Chara's great relief. They shrugged on their coats, and as Chara shrugged on theirs, they ignored the pressing feeling of impending disaster that had been gnawing at them all day.

* * *

Sans was glad to be drinking again; he hadn't realised it'd been nearly three weeks since his last. He wasn't even irritated at Burgerpants' incompetence. He watched with amusement as his friends danced — or rather, tried to dance in their compromised state. The jukebox as pseudo-Grillby's was significantly better, and had some time ago drawn his friends and other merry bar-goers onto the 'dance floor'; a wide circle which they had pushed the tables and chairs out from. Sans tapped his glass along to the beat of the upbeat jazzy human song that the jukebox cranked out.

_I've wandered so aimless, life filled with sin,_

_I wouldn't let my dear saviour in._

_Then Jesus came like a stranger in the night,_

_Praise the Lord, I saw the light!_

He could have laughed then, with the wonderful strangeness of everything he was seeing. Toriel and Chara swinging each other around, trying to sing along to a song they clearly didn't know the lyrics to. Mettaton performing — there was no other word for it — some intricate and ridiculous choreography that was clearly from one of his shows and yet he'd managed to mould it to every previous song, thoroughly impressing the admiring onlookers. Alphys had danced reluctantly at first, but now she danced around with Undyne with as much confidence as anyone else. Sans was so used to feeling hollow that he could have cried with the joy that was overflowing in him.

_I've walked in darkness, and clouds covered me,_

_I had no idea where the way out could be._

_Then came the sunrise and rolled back the night,_

_Praise the Lord, I saw the light!_

"Sans?"

It was Papyrus, looking stern, holding one hand out to him, the other resting on his hip.

"You haven't danced yet, and I will allow it no longer."

On any other night, in any other bar, he would have refused. But Sans looked into his brother's half-stern, half-loving face, and took his hand. He let Papyrus pull him into the crowd and Sans gave in entirely to the music and the drunkenness and the wholesome feeling of being with friends.

_Just like a blind man I wandered alone,_

_Worries and fear I claimed for my own_

_Then like a blind man who God gave back his sight,_

_Praise the Lord, I saw the light!_

It happened very quickly.

Out of the corner of his eye, Sans caught a gleam of metal through the crowd — the gleam of a knife. He craned his neck. The crowd moved again and he saw Chara standing there, gazing at the knife they held.

In an instant, everything shrunk away and the strange, easy haze that had been fogging his mind for weeks vanished and was replaced by the overwhelming sensation of falling from a great height.

It was change in their eyes, a flash of delight on their face —

Barely a flicker —

But enough for Sans to notice, enough to snap him from his stupor.

The dancing, the singing, the music became impossibly slow as Sans began to force his way through the crowd.

_I saw the light, I saw the light!_

_No more darkness, no more night!_

_Now I'm so happy, no sorrow in sight!_

_Praise the Lord, I saw the light!_

He wrapped his hand around the blade before he registered what he was doing and yanked it from Chara's grip. He heard no noise; still nothing else in the bar existed except himself and Chara, who was looking blankly at him, the cold emptiness growing smaller in their eyes until they saw him, really saw him, and he saw his own fear and revulsion reflected there.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics from Hank Williams' 'I Saw the Light'. Happy holidays!


	9. Murder Your Memory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahh thank you so much for the kudos and comments so far!!! I hope you like this chapter :}

They stared at each other as the world began to re-materialise around them.

After a moment, Chara's wide eyes glanced down at Sans' hand, and he became aware of a sharp, pulsing pain that shot up his arm.  He was still clutching the knife, so tightly that blood flowed — impossibly — from between his fingers bones. He gasped, releasing it, and snatched a napkin from the nearest table. The knife clattered to the floor as he wrapped the cut that arched across his palm.

The music had grown quiet, and he realised that his friends must be approaching.

_ Fuck. Fucking fuck. _

His eyes met with Chara’s, and understanding flickering between them: _The others can’t know._

He shoved his poorly bandaged hands as quickly as he could into his jacket pocket, wincing, and the two of them turned to their concerned friends with wide and terrified grins.

Somehow they improvised the lie that Chara had almost dropped a steak knife from a nearby table onto their own foot before Sans had jumped to their aid. Chara was, of course, merrily thankful for having all their toes, and they both gave laughs that they hoped didn’t sound forced. As soon as he could, Sans announced that he would walk poor Chara home.

 

 

* * *

 

 

He slammed the front door behind him and began to pace, ignoring Chara’s incessant fidgeting. Too much had just happened — too much mess he had to straighten out but couldn’t. His mind ached and each thought slipped away like sand before he could get a real grasp on it. He wished he wasn’t drunk, and laughed, then stopped pacing. It was no use. He turned to Chara. He was sure their look of terror, confusion and exhaustion matched only his own. 

He decided that speaking his thoughts out loud would be more practical than silence.

"So," he huffed. "So."

But he couldn't  think of anything after that.

Chara had begun to pace, grabbing wildly at fistfuls of hair.  “I don’t know. I don’t know,”  they were muttering to no one in particular.  “I can’t explain it.”

Sans rubbed his face, then winced when his cheek grazed over the cut on his hand. He left the muttering Chara alone for a moment to retrieve the first aid box from under the sink in the kitchen.

When he returned, they had stopped pacing, and instead stood, hugging themself, staring at nothing. They jumped when he dropped the first aid box on the table.

“Walk me through what happened,”  he said.

They pulled out a chair from the table and sat down, carefully, as though the chair was made of matchsticks. 

“I don’t know,”  they said, their voice a whisper. _I gathered as much,_ Sans thought.  “I — I just saw the knife and — I felt like I disappeared.”

“Was it like a trance?”  he asked.

They looked up as though they’d just realised he was there.  “Yeah.”

He nodded. The first aid box that had lain under the sink in their Real Snowdin home was tattered, old; half the antiseptics were expired, the bandages mostly mouldy. This one, a  ‘housewarming’  gift from Toriel, was clean and white and new. He plucked out a bandage with disdain.

“It was like I was losing consciousness, or like dreaming,”  Chara went on, talking fast.  “I couldn’t control my thoughts. And, you know that sort of — voice in your head?”

He peeled off the bloodied napkin that was haphazardly wrapped around his hand. “Your conscience?”

“No, the other one. It’s not really a _voice_ so much as a — a compulsion to do certain things.”

Sans glanced up.  “Yeah,”  he lied.

“Well, it’s usually pretty easy to ignore, but it’s like it got really loud all of a sudden, and — you do know what I mean, right?”

He realised he was staring at them, and forced himself to relax. 

“Sure, ‘course.”

They nodded vaguely. Then, after a moment’s silence, asked,  “Do you have a heart?”

Sans grinned to hide his surprise. “Metaphorically, or…?”

Chara frowned. “A real heart,”  they said.  “You’d need a real, working heart to bleed. But then again, you’d also need flesh.”

Sans hesitated. He was intimidated by the calculating look in their eyes — calculating like they were already working it out.

"You're mortal, aren't you? Not just monster-mortal,  _human-mortal._ You have a heart. You bleed. You're easy to hurt, like a human."

Stunned by their frankness, he said nothing. He looked into the neat cut on his hand; so strange, seeming to float over his bones. He began to dress it in the fresh bandage.

“Papyrus can’t know,”  he said in a small voice.  “The others can’t either, but especially Papyrus. Do you understand?”

"Of course."

They sat in silence. Chara fidgeted.

“The knife,”  Sans thought out loud after a while.  “The knife was a trigger for something. What did you want to do with it when you had it?”

Their fidgeting intensified.  “I wasn’t myself,”  they said firmly.

Was that denial in their voice?

“Chara,”  he said, ignoring how wrong their name felt in his mouth,  “I want to work out what this means as much as you do. We need to be honest with each other.”  _And you could be a danger to us all otherwise._

“Right,”  they said, not looking at him.  “Honest. Yes.”

Sans heard footsteps crunching in the snow somewhere outside.

"Listen, just try to get some sleep. We'll figure it out tomorrow. I'm sure it's nothing to worry about."

They didn’t look reassured in the slightest. He’d figured. A key rattled in the door — Sans looked at his injured hand, gathered up the first aid box and foul napkin, and shot upstairs to find gloves, leaving Chara alone at the table.

 

* * *

 

Sans paced in his room, muttering to himself. The first aid box lay abandoned in the corner, the bloodied napkin somewhere underneath. His thoughts felt thick as honey — every time he felt he was close to straightening one thing out, it melted away or became even more confusing and he was left dazed. He sighed.

Struck by an idea, he began to rummage through his drawers for — socks, no … Gloves—ah. He carefully slipped them on. A  broken pencil — that would do; and a crumpled piece of paper.

Hastily, he flattened it out and began to write out his thoughts.

 

_CHARA:_

_triggered into trance after seeing knife. why now? never seen a knife before? must be other variables at play. cursed knife?_ (He crossed that out.) _a compulsion? could it have happened to anyone? why them?_

_LAST FEW WEEKS:_

_confused, foggy. couldn't think. couldn_ _ ’ _ _t remember to be cautious around them. snapped out of it because of their trance thing._

 

He paused, thinking hard, fighting against the fog in his mind. Then, he scrawled:

 

_MEMORIES_

 

He dropped the pencil. His hand was shaking. Chara had been here, what... ? Days? Weeks? Surely it couldn't have been that long. Now that he thought about it, he couldn't remember when they first came. And the longer they stayed, the hazier his mind had become. Surely he had asked them where they came from, or why they had come back. But he couldn't remember for the life of him. It was like someone had cut out his memories.

Breathing hard, he picked the pencil up again.

 

_it wasn't_ _a trance_

 

* * *

 

He burst into Papyrus'  room.

“Sans? What time is it?”  his brother blinked groggily. Sans ignored his question and kneeled by his bed.

"Pap, listen. I need you to tell me something about Chara' s life. Anything. Do they go to university? Did they have parents?"

"Sans, what —"

"Please, Pap."

Papyrus stared at him for a long moment, then sighed, propping himself up on his elbow. 

“Actually, we were talking about their parents just last night,”  he said, rubbing the back of his skull.

“So they had parents? Human parents?” 

“Well, they —”  Papyrus broke off, frowning.

"What?"

“I — it’s so strange, we were talking about it only hours ago, but I can’t seem to recall what they said. Erm…”

Sans stood.  “You can't remember what they said.”

“No, I guess not…  I will ask them again in the morning. I’m not exactly in the right state of mind to remember conversation details, you know,”  he added grumpily. But Sans wasn't listening. 

“You can’t remember what they said about their parents,”  he repeated.  “Say, Papyrus, when did they start staying with us?”

“Er...  I couldn’t say, Sans. A long time ago now. You know, we should really find a better sleeping arrangement for them.”

“Right,”  he said simply, and walked out.

Back in his own room, he fumbled with the pencil and wrote:

 

_MANIPULATED MEMORIES_

 

He underlined it twice.

 

* * *

 

Chara woke in a sweat. They lay panting for a moment, letting the sticky, uncomfortable fragments of their nightmare fade away. They licked their lips - their mouth was awfully dry. They threw back the covers and stumbled groggily into the dark kitchen. 

Turning the cold knob on full blast, they drank from the jet and splashed their face several times, imagining they were washing away the final remnants of their dream. Reaching for a tea-towel, they froze.  

A shadow stood in the doorway.

They tried to speak, but their throat had gone dry again. They blinked at the darkness until they made out the form of a person — no, it was the form of a child.

The unmistakable shape of a knife glinted in the half-light and Chara cried out, stumbling backwards into the countertop. The child fingered a heart-shaped locket that lay on their chest.

"Tick tock."

Chara jolted up, gasping for air. Instinctively, their hand went to the place on their chest where once, many years ago, a heart-shaped locked had lain.

 

* * *

 

Sans almost tripped down the stairs in his hurry to get down. He frowned into the darkness and fumbled with the light switch.

“Chara?”  he called. 

He flicked the light on at last, blinking against the sudden brightness. 

But nobody was there.


	10. Brain Scratch

Sans sat alone on the living room couch, his mind swimming, clutching a crumpled piece of paper that he’d found on the dining table with a single word scrawled on it:

 

_Sorry._

 

He thought of the list of his own thoughts that lay somewhere in his room. _Manipulated memories._

Was Chara ever here? Did they exist all? Perhaps his brother didn’t exist either. Perhaps he was alone in a world that didn’t really exist.

His strange, impossible heart was hammering against his ribcage.

He peeled off one of his gloves and stared at the bandaged wound. 

_If you couldn’t see something, was it really there?_

He looked at Chara’s crumpled note and the blanket that lay next to him. He pressed a finger against the bandage; pain seared from the wound beneath it.

“Sans, turn the light off, will you?” his brother called from upstairs.

Sans exhaled. _It’s proof_ , he told himself firmly, _that I’m not alone_. Taking a deep breath, he carefully folded up Chara’s note and swung off the couch to turn off the light.

_What if you could isolate a specific memory and erase it?_

He froze at the thought.

_Alphys._

_Alphys will know._

He sped up the stairs two at a time and returned moments later, half pulling on his jacket. He pulled out a receipt from the depths of his pocket and on the back, he wrote:

 

_PAP_

_AT ALPHYS’_

_BE SAFE_  

 

He left it on the kitchen bench, put Chara’s folded note into his pocket, and was out the door after double-checking it was locked behind him.

 

It was a decent way down the mountain to the sparsely populated town where Alphys and Undyne lived. That is, if they weren’t out in the city, which was even further away. 

He gazed out at the spiderweb of lights that glittered in the distance. He didn’t like to think about how someone who knew so much more about Sans than anyone should could be roaming about.

How strange the past few weeks had been. It was like a disturbing movie – unsettling beneath a comfortable cliché. A truth hidden in a memory fogged by nostalgia. 

The drowsy dinner, the drunken dancing… 

He was almost bitter about how happy he’d been. 

But Alphys was smart—smarter than him at any rate, and if he’d had a revelation he had no doubt she was two steps ahead.

The question was how Chara came into it.

He trudged on into the snow, sinking low into his hood.

 

* * *

 

Sans banged his uninjured fist on the door. No answer.

He knocked again. No answer.

Just before his third knock, the door swung inwards and Alphys stood in the doorway, bleary-eyed and in her dressing gown.

“Sans?” she blinked. “Are you okay?”

Sans nodded, breathless. He had never been very fit. Alphys glanced over his shoulder.

“Did you walk here? From _Ebott?”_

“It’s urgent,” he panted. “Kind of.”

She tightened her dressing gown. “Ah, well, you’d better c-come in, I guess.”

He steadied himself against the doorway. “Alphys, I need to know about…” he trailed off, out of breath again.

“Um, you look like you’re about to pass out. Sit down.”

He nodded and stepped inside the small house to sit heavily at the dining table, catching his breath while Alphys put the kettle on.

“Have you slept tonight?” she called from the kitchen.

“No. Have you?” he asked, remembering her bloodshot eyes.

“No.”

“Is Undyne here?”

“She’s training in the city tonight.”

She returned carrying two steaming mugs of hot chocolate, and slid one in front of Sans. He thanked her and took a sip. She sat across from him. 

“So what did you come bolting down Ebott in the middle of the night for?”

He slid Chara’s note across the table to her. “They’re gone.”

Alphys frowned at the little slip of paper. 

“You don’t seem surprised,” he observed.

She pushed the note back to him. “I’m not.”

“You knew they would leave?”

“Eventually,” she shrugged. “Humans leave. This is, uh, kind of ominous, though. It seems impulsive. When did you last see them?”

“A couple of hours before I realised they’d gone.”

“Something must have happened,” Alphys went on, rapping her claws thoughtfully against the table.

Sans said nothing. If he could get around telling her about their little incident with the knife, he would.

“Have you noticed how weird things have felt lately?” she asked quietly. “Like time has… stopped or something. I—I know it hasn’t,” she added quickly, “but still… I can’t shake the feeling.”

He shivered. “I know what you mean. Actually, I thought… it might have something to do with this,” he gestured to the note. 

She straightened her glasses. “Hm. I suppose it could… But I can’t figure out why they’d up and leave so quickly. They seemed okay at dinner. Maybe something happened when we went out?”

Sans sipped his hot chocolate to avoid answering. He knew Alphys was looking at him.

“Sans,” she said, “I know you know more than you let on. I-I can’t help you if you don’t tell me. I won’t force you,” she assured when Sans began to object, “But there’s only so much I can do, you know? I want to work this out too. I know something weird’s been going on.” Her voice dropped to a murmur. “You know, I never met Chara when they lived with the Dreemurrs. I only heard whatever gossip was circulating outside the kingdom. But the second I saw them walking up to your door, I felt weird. For a second, I couldn’t… couldn’t breathe. You know?”

Sans nodded numbly.

There were times after he’d first woken up from Chara’s violent reset where he would be with Frisk and become paralysed by a feeling of inexplicable dread. He would feel cold, dizzy, tight in the chest and utterly terrified that he couldn’t explain why—why would the image of Frisk suddenly send him spiralling? Why would the harmless kid appear in his nightmares? 

These episodes always ended the same way. An unbidden, icy thought, ripping through his mind:

_This isn’t the only reality._

In those moments, it felt like Frisk had triggered some distant memory. A possibility, flickering like a candle in the dark, impossible to grasp at.

“Alphys, do you know much about… memory?”

She sniffed. “Um, n-not really. I mean, I’ve done tests on memory capacity, but you know that. Why do you ask?”

“Well, hypothetically, could you… manipulate someone’s memories?”

“Manipulate?” 

He rubbed the back of his skull, realising how suspicious he sounded. “Well, uh… isolate a memory and erase it, or change it…”

Alphys pushed up her glasses. “I suppose,” she said slowly. “But it would require enormous effort and sophisticated technology. You mean monster memories, right? ‘Cause human brains work differently.”

“Right.” He fiddled with his mug, thinking.

“So,” she asked after a few minutes of silence, “Are you going to look for Chara?”

He swallowed. “I don’t know. I guess. I can’t just leave it. I’m worried something will happen. I want—I _need_ to know what it means. I can’t stand how—how— _unexplainable_ it is. I feel like I’m missing something painfully obvious, you know?”

“Are you sure you don't know why they left?”

“Well…” he hesitated. 

“You’d tell me if it was important, right? If anyone was in danger.”

He cursed inwardly. “Alright. Ugh. Well. Look. When we were at Grillby’s—uh, not Grillby’s. You know. Anyway, uh, Chara must have found a steak knife lying around and grabbed it ‘cos next thing I knew something snapped and I was running over to get it off ‘em, you know, ‘cos they looked like they could do some… some serious damage with it.”

Alphys was resting her chin on her claws, looking baffled. “I’m… not sure I understand. They found a knife?”

“Yeah.”

“And you… took it off them?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Well, they looked… Alphys, I really thought they were going to hurt someone. And I think—I think they thought so too.”

Her eyes widened. “Y-you thought they were g-going to hurt someone? With a _knife_? Like, c-cut someone?”

Hearing someone else say it send a wave of cold dread though Sans. 

“Yeah,” he breathed. _And I let them waltz right out the door._

“Do you have any idea where th-they went?”

“No. None. Oh my God, Alphys, do you think they’re going to hurt someone?”

She didn’t answer at first. Then, to his relief, she shook her head. He exhaled.

“No. I d-don’t think they will. Not tonight, anyway. Why would they leave a note saying ‘sorry’?”

He picked up the note. “An apology in advance?”

Neither of them laughed.

“You really have no idea where they could have gone?” she pressed.

“None. If they ever told me anything about themself, I don’t remember it.”

“Ah.” She gave a small, wry smile. “You think they changed your memories.”

He wrung his hands. “Do you think it’s possible?”

“Like I said, it wouldn’t be easy. And - and I don’t think they could fit that kind of tech in their backpack.”

Somehow, he was disappointed. He didn’t realise how hard he had been clinging to the theory. It was all he’d come up with; the only thing that seemed to have any logic.

“But,” she went on, “I wouldn’t rule it out. It’s not like we have much else to go on.”

He nodded, though his shoulders sagged. “I suppose I should go,” he said.

“Sure. I’ll go to the lab tomorrow and see if I can dig up any of that memory stuff.”

“I’ll see if I can figure out where Chara is.”

“Good plan. Heh. We’re like – it’s like we’re secret agents.”

He grinned and stood from the table. “Thanks for the choc.” 

Before they reached the door, he asked her, “Hey, why were you awake, anyway?”

“Oh, I haven’t been sleeping much lately. It doesn’t help when Undyne’s training. She’s really getting into this pro-wrestling stuff.”

He laughed.

“‘Night, Alphys. Uh, keep your door locked.”

She smiled nervously. “You too.”

 

* * *

 

By the time he made it back, dawn was approaching.

Not quite ready to face the silence of his bedroom, Sans sat outside in the snow to watch the glimmering city lights fade in the dawning light.

Alphys was right: Chara wasn’t going to hurt anyone any time soon. If they really wanted to, they would have done it already. And the last time he saw them, they’d looked at petrified as he felt. 

He'd go into the city and look for them once the sun was up. He'd better check the underground, too. Then, he'd...

He'd begun to doze off.

His bones were heavy with exhaustion. Perhaps, just for today, he could indulge in a good, long sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EuuggghhggGhgh.  
> Thank you so much for your comments and kudos!! It's heartwarming!  
> Shoutout to [booogiepop](http://archiveofourown.org/users/booogiepop/pseuds/booogiepop) who's been helping me with the terrible task of editing. They're writing an excellent Undertale fic, check it out if you like!


	11. Chiaroscuro

When Sans woke up, it was sunset. He stared at the orange light streaming through his blinds, transfixed. He hoped he would never stop finding sunshine to be the most magical thing about the overworld.

The moment dissolved like mist in the sun when he remembered the night before.

Before he grew too tempted to roll over and try to go back to sleep, he sat up and threw aside his threadbare covers.

Today, he would find Chara.

 

* * *

 

 

Papyrus didn’t turn around when Sans ambled into the kitchen. “Sleeping the day away is becoming a habit, I see,” he scolded. “Well, I made dinner. Dinner-breakfast for you. _Dinfast_.” He chuckled to himself.

“Well, thanks for _brinner_ , Pap.” 

Papyrus laughed - Sans was off the hook. It wasn’t hard to get on his brother’s good side. Papyrus handed him a plate of what looked like two slices of pizza topped with semi-melted ice cream. They pushed loose papers and leftover plates to one side of the table as they sat down to eat. 

Sans took a hearty bite. _Hey, choc-mint._

Papyrus must have read his expression as delight because he beamed, “ _Il gelato e la pizza -_ a great combination, right, Sans?”

Sans made what he hoped was a noise of agreement.

“So what were you doing with dear Alphys last night? I hope you weren’t having a super fun sleepover without me.”

“No, bro, I just had a—really hard maths problem. Alphys was helping me figure it out.”

“Ah, well, if anyone can do it, Alphys can,” Papyrus said sagely. Then, a familiar voice began to drone through the living room and he whirled round in his seat to ogle at the TV. 

“Mettaton’s on!”

_Mettaton: Live on Stage!_ , Papyrus’ favourite show, second only to _Mettaton: The Man Behind the Metal_ , was on. On-screen, the robot was emerging from heavy fog, singing some tragic and dramatic rendition of a popular overworld song.

 

_(Turn around)_

_Every now and then,_

_I get a little bit lonely,_

_And you're never coming round._

 

_(Turn around)_

_Every now and then,_

_I get a little bit tired_

_Of listening to the sound of my tears…_

 

_(Turn around)_

_Every now and then,_

_I get a little bit nervous_

_That the best of all the years have gone by._

 

_(Turn around)_

_Every now and then I get a little bit terrified_

_And then I see the look in your eyes!_

_(Turn around, bright eyes!)_

_Every now and then I fall apart!_

_(Turn around, bright eyes!)_

_Every now and then_

_I fall apart!_

 

Sans rolled his eyes. “Pap, I’m going into the city tonight. Do you want anything while I’m there?” He had to speak up over Mettaton’s singing. 

Papyrus made a vague hand gesture. “Yes, yes, tell Undyne hello when you see her.” 

“What?” Sans almost shouted. Papyrus was turning the volume up.

“Undyne is wrestling in the city tonight,” he yelled. “Is that not where you’re going? Oh, he’s wonderful, isn’t he?”

“Wait—what?” Sans yelled back. 

“Mettaton—isn’t he wonderful?”

Sans pressed his palm into his forehead. “Just be careful tonight, okay?”

“I always am, brother!”

 

_And I need you now tonight,_

_And I need you more than ever!_

_And if you’ll only hold me tight,_

_We'll be holding on forever._

_And we'll only be making it right,_

_'Cause we'll never be wrong!_

_Together we can take it to the end of the line,_

_Your love is like a shadow on me all of the time!_

 

Sans cringed. The robot had fallen to his knees and gestured dramatically to the heavens.

He took his plate to the sink, found his keys amongst the mess on the dining table, and headed to the door.

“See you, Pap!” he called out.

“Farewell, brother.” Papyrus waved without turning around and continued to passionately sing along.

 

_Once upon a time I was falling in love,_

_But now I'm only falling apart._

_There's nothing I can do,_

_A total eclipse of the heart._

 

_Once upon a time there was light in my life,_

_But now there's only love in the dark._

_Nothing I can say,_

_A total eclipse of the heart._

 

The last thing Sans saw before closing the door behind him was Mettaton, surrounded by lights, throwing his arms wide.

_Jeez._

 

* * *

 

His empty bus reached the city center some time into the evening. The street was deserted, save for a small crowd of young-looking humans. They were gathered outside an overcrowded joint and craning their necks to glimpse through the windows. Sans wondered why until he heard a familiar voice from inside.

“Take this, ya jerk! _Rraargh!”_

A loud crash sounded, and the kids gasped and cheered.

“Undyne the Undying!”

He trudged on.

He liked being in the city on nights like these: the air was cool and the quiet streets meant he didn’t feel like he was sneaking around where he shouldn’t be. At best, humans tolerated monsters with reluctance, and at worst, they were openly hostile. Nevertheless, so long as he kept quiet, no one really bothered Sans.

A giggling couple fell silent as they passed him, and he felt their stares on his back. Another small, chittering crowd of humans was heading towards him. Perhaps the city wasn’t as empty as he’d thought. Pulling his hood up, he ducked into an alleyway and waited for the group to pass.

He sighed heavily and leaned back against the wall. He’d also overestimated his patience.

_If I were Chara, where would I be?_

He had no idea. He knew so little about them to begin with, and there were dozens of apartments in the city. There was a good chance they weren’t even in the city. He groaned. Any determination he’d had when he’d woken up had shrunk away.

_I’ll get a drink somewhere first._ That would pick him up. Then he could look for Chara.

It was a pathetic excuse, but he couldn’t find the energy to care. He slipped out of the alleyway in search of the nearest bar. 

A little way up from the alley he found a sign reading _Point Nemo Pub_ blinking at him in blue neon and sidled in.

Whorls of dust swirled in the few shafts of light in the pub. A few figures sat at the bar, their eyes glued to a crackling TV set playing some black-and-white human film. Trying to keep his face in shadow, he ordered a whisky. The burly barman narrowed his eyes, but said nothing as he accepted Sans’ coins and slid the drink over. 

_“We’re both rotten,”_ _droned a glamorous blonde woman on TV._

_“Only you’re a little more rotten,” replied a man, his voice clipped._ _“You got me to take care of your husband for you… and then you get Zachetti to take care of Lola, maybe take care of me, too. Then somebody else would have come along to take care of Zachetti for you. That’s the way you operate, isn’t it, baby?”_

_“Suppose it is. Is what you’ve got cooked up for tonight any better?”_

Sans sipped his drink. _At least it’s better than Mettaton strutting around and singing._

“Hey,” he nodded to the barman, who tore his gaze from the TV. “I’m looking for someone—human—tall, dark hair and eyes. Sort of jumpy. Ring any bells?”

The barman jutted out his chin. “Why’re you lookin’?”

“I got stood up,” he grinned. 

The man went slightly red. “I ain’t seen nothin’,” he said tensely, and turned back to the TV.

Someone at the bar leaned towards Sans into the light—a monster, with a bull-like face and two large, curled horns protruding from their head.

The monster inclined their head to Sans, who returned the gesture. They nodded to the far corner of the bar where, in the dark booth, sat a hunched figure. The monster gave Sans a meaningful look. He glanced from the figure to the monster, but they had bent forward into the shadows again.

Sans’ stool squeaked as he stood up, and the barman clicked his tongue.

Heart hammering, he approached the hunched figure carefully, as though if he went too fast it might be scared away. As he edged closer, he recognised the high cheekbones and cut of their hair.

_Well, that was easy._

He slipped soundlessly into the booth seat opposite them. A gunshot sounded on the TV.

Chara didn’t notice him at first; they seemed to be deeply contemplating the empty glass they were bent over. Then, their gaze flitted up to him and they gave a great start.

“Jesus!” they hissed, rubbing a hand over their eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, one does worry when someone goes running off without explanation,” Sans said coolly.

“I left a note,” they sighed, as though that explained it.

Sans snorted. “It was one word.”

“Yeah, well, when people leave notes it means that’s it,” they said with a glance over their shoulder. He followed their gaze.

“Who are you looking for?”

“Nobody. Listen, I’m sorry I ever came back, okay? I never should have, I didn’t know—” they faltered.

“Know what?” Sans pressed immediately.

They took a slow breath with their fingers pressed against their eyes. “Nothing,” they said.

_The man approached her, one hand clutching his chest. “Why didn’t you shoot again, baby? Don’t tell me it’s because you’ve been in love with me this whole time.”_

_“No, I never loved you, Walter, not you or anybody else. I’m rotten to the heart, I used you just as you said. That’s all you ever meant to me… until a minute ago… when I couldn’t fire that second shot.” Tears welled up in the woman’s eyes. “I never thought that could happen to me.”_

_“Sorry, baby, I’m not buying.”_

_“I’m not asking you to buy!” she pleaded. “Just hold me close.”_

_She embraced the man for a moment. Then, she took her head from his shoulder and looked up at him with wide, horrified eyes._

_“Goodbye, baby,” he said._

_Gunshots sounded, and the woman went limp against him._

“Would you turn that shit off?” Chara yelled suddenly. The humans at the bar swung in their stools to glare at them. They turned back to Sans with a hard stare. “Anyway, this is it, alright? Don’t follow me. For your own sake, just leave me alone.” And with that, they swept from the booth.

“Wait!” Sans called after them. Chara disappeared into the street without a backwards glance. 

His heart was still pounding. They knew something strange had happened when they’d returned to Ebott, he was sure of it. And by the sounds of it, it wasn’t intentional. He fell back into his seat, considering giving up and going back to the bar to finish his whisky, Chara be damned. Whatever had been messing with his mind was over now… Well. Sort of.

He dashed out of _Point Nemo_ and into the cool night.

Chara was standing under a lamppost across the street, pulling on a coat. Thrusting his hands into his pockets, Sans jogged across the street. They spotted him and sighed a cloud of vapour. 

“What did I _just_ say?” they huffed.

“Look, I know, but—please, just listen, just for a sec—”

A commotion further down the street cut him off. A body came crashing through a window, landing hard on the pavement outside, followed by a round of raucous cheering from inside. The body leapt up and cried out, “I was just punched by Undyne the Undying! _Yeah!”_

Sans suppressed a heavy sigh as Undyne herself stepped outside, followed by Alphys and a hoard of whooping humans. 

“Just my luck,” muttered Chara, turning away.

“No—” If he could have even a minute or two talk to Chara with Alphys, he could figure this thing out once and for all. “Just—one second. Please.”

They looked at him for a long moment, their expression hard. Finally, they sighed and clicked their tongue. Sans whirled around to wave the couple over.

Undyne waved back and, after a few strong words to her fans, jogged over beside Alphys.

“Hey, Sans. Chara,” Undyne greeted. Chara gave her a stiff nod. 

“What’re you guys up to?” Alphys asked. Sans didn’t miss the quick, questioning look she gave him. “You should’ve come to the match, it was really great.”

“Some guy actually _asked_ me to punch him just now,” Undyne grinned, flexing a bicep. “Went right through the front window, did you see it? He was stoked.”

“Actually, uh, Chara and I were just talking about—astrophysics. They have a question for Alphys.” Chara shot him a scathing look.

“Oh, well, ask away,” said Alphys, smiling.

Sans mentally slapped his forehead. _Be_ slower _on the cues, Alphys._ “It’s more of a, uh, _personal_ question.”

Undyne raised her eyebrows. “A personal question about astrophysics.”

Chara grit their teeth. “Yes.”

“It’s a real thinker,” Sans grinned, staring hard at the baffled scientist.

“Uh. Oh!” she exclaimed at last. “Yes—right! Um, Undyne, do you mind if I hang around to help Chara out with their—their question?”

Hurt flashed briefly across Undyne’s face before she broke into a grin. “Hey, sure, I get it. I’ll see you at home.” She kissed Alphys goodbye, turned, and disappeared around the corner. Alphys watched her go.

Chara crossed their arms over their chest and turned to Alphys and Sans, looking expectant. “You have one minute.”

“Okay, we need to talk,” Sans begun. “We—Alphys and me—feel like something weird has been going on lately. We just want to ask a few questions about anything you might know.”

“What do you mean, ‘weird’?” they asked suspiciously. 

“If you talk to us, you’ll find out. Please,” he added.

“We wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t really important,” Alphys insisted.

They dropped their arms. “Ugh. Fine.”

They brushed past the two of them—Sans could have sworn he heart them huff something about monsters and being obnoxious under their breath—and headed back across the street into _Point Nemo._

He and Alphys exchanged a look before following them in.

 

“So,” Alphys said, rapping her claws on the gritty booth table. “Why don’t you, uh… tell us about… yourself.”

Chara looked like they’d accidentally swallowed a bug. “Why?”

“Could you tell us what happened when you left the underground the first time?” Sans tried. They rolled their eyes. “Why did you leave?”

That seemed to strike a chord in Chara, because their scowl disappeared. “I got sick, you know that,” they said quietly.

“Yeah, but, do you know why? What sort of sickness was it?”

They swallowed. “I…”

“Was it physical?” Alphys asked.

Chara shook their head, their gaze becoming distant. “No… my mind… I was having… hallucinations.”

“Then what?” Sans urged. 

They tensed, their expression hard again. “Do you really need to know _now_?”

“It helps more than you know,” he said.

They set their jaw. “Then I—I ran away.” 

“What? Why?”

“Because it’s _my_ fault!” they blurted.

“What is?!”

“His death! Him—Asriel!” they flinched as though his name was cursed. They were breathing hard. “When we… went to the surface together, I don’t—I didn’t actually _want_ to do it. He didn’t either. I was so sick for such a long time, you have to understand that,” they said, a pleading edge to their voice. “I was delusional, hallucinating… I’d told him I wanted to go home. He just wanted to help—that’s all he ever wanted. I didn’t know what I’d done…” they hung their head, and their voice became a bitter monotone. “So it’s my fault he died. My fault the kingdom collapsed. I ran away and I kept running and I always will. I thought… if I could go back, and see that everything is fine now, I would feel better.” They laughed once, bitterly. “And I ran away from that, too.”

Sans just stared at them, unable to speak. They stood suddenly.

“Is that all?”

“No!” Sans and Alphys both exclaimed. 

“Fine.” They edged their way out of the booth.

“Wait!” Alphys cried.

“I’m just getting a drink,” they muttered, and shuffled off to the bar.

Sans seized the opportunity and turned quickly to Alphys. “There’s still a chance they’re lying,” he whispered hurriedly.

“I know,” she whispered back, fidgeting. “But it makes sense. Except for the part about running away.”

“What do you mean?” he hissed.

“Humans can’t cross the barrier on their own—they need a monster soul, too.”

“Shit,” Sans breathed.

“Yeah.” She turned to study Chara’s back. “I feel terrible.”

“It could be a ruse,” Sans reminded her.

“I know,” she said quietly. 

He couldn’t help but feel a stab of pity for them, too. And… it did make sense.

Alphys sat up a little straighter. “I’m going to tell them about our theory.”

“What? Are you sure?”

“Yes,” she said with certainty. “Even if they’re lying about all this, what does it matter? It’s just a theory.”

Chara came slinking back into the booth with three shot glasses. Sans assumed they were for him and Alphys, but Chara downed them all three one after the other. Alphys coughed.

“Chara… the reason we’re asking about this is because… we’ve been discussing the possibility of… memory manipulation.” 

They froze. “Memory manipulation?”

“Yes. When you were with us on Ebott, we noticed something, uh… kind of weird. We felt like our memories had been altered, or cut out completely, particularly when we were around you. Do you… know anything about that?”

“You… you could feel that?” they asked hoarsely.

Alphys and Sans exchanged a glance, and Alphys nodded.

“It’s just that… there were times when I was living in the kingdom, where… I felt like I was forgetting things. Big things, things you don’t forget, just… falling right out of my head.” They stared, wide-eyed, at nothing. 

“R-really?” 

They nodded. “I would get flashes of… things… occasionally, but remembering what they were was like trying to remember a dream. That’s when I started getting sick. And it—it’s been happening again.”

Then, their gaze came sharply into focus, and they stood again, swaying slightly.

Sans stared at them. Beside him, Alphys was staring, too, one claw clamped over her mouth.

Chara seemed to compose themself slightly. “Well, anyway, you’ve wasted enough my time tonight.” With that, they stumbled towards the door.

Sans seemed to be frozen in place. His heart was pounding horribly. 

_Big things, things you don’t forget, just… falling right out of my head._

He knew that feeling too well.

Suddenly, a shriek broke the silence outside.

As though a jolt of electricity went through him, he leapt up and practically scrambled over Alphys to the door. 

He burst outside and looked wildly about—and there they were, leaning heavily on the lamppost across the street, clutching their head as though it was splitting apart. 

They cried out again. It was cut off, abruptly, when they crumpled to the pavement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, thanks to [booogiepop](http://archiveofourown.org/users/booogiepop/) for editing.  
> "Black-and-white human film" dialogue is from _Double Indemnity,_ 1944.  
>  Thank you for the support! If you're enjoying this, do leave a comment!  
>   
> My writing blog is [veryterriblethings.tumblr.com](http://veryterriblethings.tumblr.com), come say hi. Or something. If you want.
> 
> Until next time!


	12. Darker Yet Darker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spooky.

* * *

_ Darkness. _

_Not simply the kind that happens when you turn the light off at night; the kind you can feel._

_ It presses against you. _

_ Into you. _

_ Through you.  _

_ Perhaps it is you—perhaps you are darkness itself. _

* * *

_ Chara gasped mouthfuls of air until their lungs stopped feeling like they’d burst. They opened their eyes, blinked. Blinked again. _

_ The darkness around them was so dense they could almost feel it crawling on their skin. It looked as still and thick as the night sky, but seemed to be charged with the feeling that something was about to jump out of it. No night had ever been as dark as this. _

_ Heart pounding, they raised their hands in front of their face: they had an odd desire to  _ see _ themself, for the reassurance that they were real _—_ but the darkness provided no comfort. There was nothing but blackness in front of them.  _

If you couldn't see something, did it really exist?

_ They tried to call out for help and immediately wish they hadn’t: the silent darkness swallowed up their voice before it had even left their throat and they were left clutching at their neck, trying to suppress the fear that rose up like bile. _

_ “Oh, very clever.” _

_ The voice came from everywhere and nowhere—echoing in Chara’s mind as if it were their own thoughts. _

_ They spun around, trying to determine its source, blinking uselessly against the impenetrable gloom. _

_ “Very clever indeed.” _

_ The voice was right by their ear and they tried to scream, to yell, desperate to hear themself—desperate for any sign they still existed. _

_ Then the shadows penetrated their very skin, swimming through their body and filling it with a heaviness that dampened all fear, and Chara felt themself fall as though from a great height.  _


End file.
